


Safeword

by TheMuchTooMerryMaiden



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Asexuality, Discussion of BDSM, Dubious Consent, Episode s06e03-Fearful Symmetry, Other, Post Season 6, Season 7 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuchTooMerryMaiden/pseuds/TheMuchTooMerryMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's a little 'off' with Hathaway and then he doesn't turn up for work one morning...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safeword

**Author's Note:**

> The violence/dub-con in the story is not between our heroes. I wasn't sure how hard to go on the warnings on this one. If anyone feels it should be more then let me know in a comment.

Robbie knew something was up the moment James walked into their shared office. It was nothing as overt as a limp, nothing so obvious as bruising, it was a tension in the lad that wasn’t normally there, as if he were guarding himself. 

“What’s happened to you?” he asked, 

“Nothing,” James replied as he sat down with a very, very slight change in expression that wasn’t a grimace but could have been one in someone less reserved, “why do you ask?” The expression that went with his reply was as closed as James had ever managed and Robbie took it that James would prefer it if he didn’t ask any more, so he didn’t but the whole thing niggled at him all day as the two of them went about their job. By the end of the shift he’d decided to make one more attempt to find out what was up with the lad.

“Fancy a pint?” he asked as James shut down his computer. He’d tried to make it sound like a casual question but he was aware he’d failed when he saw James’ expression close down even more behind a bland smile as he replied,

“Sure why not.”

Sat in the Crown and Anchor, pints of bitter in front of them, it became obvious to Robbie that James was not going to talk about anything that mattered; he’d kept up a steady monologue which took in aspects of their current case, tangentially related news stories and even more tangentially related snippets of philosophy. Robbie knew James in full on avoidance mode and also knew that there would be no point in even trying. The thought worried him. There’d been a couple of times when Robbie had known that Hathaway was having a problem and he’d told himself he was respecting James’ wishes when really it was cowardice, the equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and humming when someone was trying to tell him something he didn’t want to hear. Robbie cleared his throat but as he began to speak, began to ask what was up; he saw such a look of appeal that instead of the question he’d been going to ask he asked about Cambridge’s chances in the boat race.

 

That was a bloody long day, James thought as he put the bolt on his front door, allowing himself a groan in response to aching muscles as he bent to pick up the post from behind the door. He had a momentary flash of last night but he clamped down on the thought and dropping the post onto the small table at the bottom of the stairs he went upstairs to get changed. At the top of the stairs he paused, trying to decide whether to have a shower, balancing the desire to be clean against having to confront the bruises and other damage head on. In the end he decided that he could wait until the morning for his shower, things would have faded a little by then, some of the marks anyway. As soon as he got into his bedroom he knew that would be the end of it for today, he would just crawl into bed and sleep and not have to worry about any of it. 

 

Robbie watched James carefully the next morning but there seemed to be none of the tells from yesterday and had James not been quite so keen not to talk yesterday Robbie would have managed to convince himself that it was all in his mind. Thinking about it a bit more he concluded that James had probably just tripped and fallen, something he would have been embarrassed to tell his boss. It still niggled at him though, he couldn’t quite seem to leave it alone and he continued to turn the matter over until their next big case knocked it out of his mind.

 

It was a surprise to Robbie when Chief Super Innocent poked a head round his office door and asked to see him in her office. He glanced across to James to share a look of puzzlement before standing up and pulling his jacket off the back of his chair and following Innocent back to her office.

“What’s up, ma’am?” he asked as soon as the office door closed behind him.

“Take a seat, Robbie.” 

His adrenaline surged at that, invited to sit down and his Christian name, it couldn’t possibly be anything good with that lead in. He asked his question again as he sat,

“What’s up?”

She was looking down, shuffling with the papers on her desk, and it took a moment for her to look up and meet his enquiring expression,

“Is there something the matter with Hathaway?”

Robbie was surprised and he instantly linked her question with his own doubts of a couple of weeks ago but he certainly wasn’t going to tip his hand without some careful thought,

“Not so far as I know, ma’am.”

She continued to look at him for a couple of moments before she continued with a small smile,

“You’re getting increasingly easy to read I’m afraid Detective Inspector, is this the same kind of ‘not so far as I know’ as your ‘it’s fine’ in the Will McEwan case?”

Robbie knew that he was blushing; any wet behind the ears PC would have picked it up let alone a Chief Super who had got to that rank by being bloody good at her job. He sighed and ran a hand over his forehead and up into his hair, smoothing it down, grasping at a second or two to pull his thoughts together into coherency.

“I’ve tried asking him, ma’am, ‘cos I’ve noticed something’s a bit off but he won’t tell me anything. I’d almost convinced mi’sel it was nowt, but, really I know there’s something.”

“Well, now I can really tell it’s something serious,” Innocent replied, “You only get ‘all northern’ like that when something’s really getting to you. You need to sort it out, Robbie, we both know the sort of stupid situations young officers can get themselves into, the sorts of things they feel they can’t get out of because of the job. Sort it out; we can’t afford to lose officers like James.”

 

Sort it out! Robbie fumed to himself as he walked back to the office, like I wouldn’t have tried to already. Bloody Hell! What am I supposed to do if the stupid bugger won’t even talk to me? Robbie was aware that by the time he’d completed the short walk between his office and Innocent’s he’d worked himself up into a right lather, and he was also aware that James would pick up on this right away, so he paused for a few moments outside the office trying to compose himself. When he finally walked back into the room, James was apparently focused on whatever was on his computer screen and Robbie felt almost cheated that his acting wasn’t going to come under close examination.

“What did herself want?” James asked without even looking up,

“Oh,” Robbie replied, trying to sound uninterested but not so casual that James would ask further questions, “Something and nothing, I think we’re going to be back to the whole paper clips vs staples debate, using up too many resources, same as always.”

Robbie knew that he had been rather less than convincing and he braced himself for James’ further enquiry but it didn’t come, James’ attention remained focused on whatever he was looking at on the computer screen.

“You found something important?” Robbie asked,

“Not sure,” James replied, “have a look at this, sir, you know that cold case we were looking at a couple of weeks ago, the ridiculously over enthusiastic ‘burglary gone wrong’ at the plastics company?”

Robbie nodded,

“Go on,” 

“Well we checked all the CCTV directly around the factory, but given that we didn’t find anything on that we didn’t look any further, but look at this, it’s from two blocks away just after the estimated time of death.” James leaned forward to run the footage back and as he did so, Robbie caught sight of a nasty looking, well it looked like a tear, rather than a cut, low on James’ neck, where almost all of the time it would have been hidden by James’ shirt collar. It looked painful and it was clear that it was a day or two old, and James had told him nothing about it. “Do you see?” James asked and Robbie had to think furiously for a second before he replied,

"No, run it back again,” he replied and he forced himself to concentrate on the CCTV images.

 

The breakthrough that James had made led to a neat arrest and the clearing up of case and throughout it all Robbie kept being reminded of the damage to James’ neck, but for all his thought he couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for it. When they had their confession, or rather when James had his confession they went back to their office,

“Well, I reckon that calls for a pint,” Robbie began, intending to follow up his suggestion with an offer to pay, but James interrupted, saying with a definite blush,

“Sorry, sir, I’m expected, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, right you are,” Robbie replied not managing to hide his surprise at James’ response, “band got a gig?”

“Something like that,” James said evasively as he headed to the door,

“Well, some other time then.”

“Yeah, that would be good,” James smiled at him but Robbie thought he could see signs of strain about the lad, “see you tomorrow, sir.”

 

_The ropes bite into James’ upper arms and the strain in his shoulders as his arms are held tightly behind him moved beyond discomfort and into pain some minutes ago. I must be good he repeats over and over to himself, I must be good, it’s what He told him as he tied him up, ‘You must be good James, or I’ll be cross, and that would be a shame.’ That would be a shame, simple enough words, but they make James’ stomach knot up in fear. I must be good, the words run round in James’ mind, a mantra, like the Rosary, but he knows the mantra, the prayers, will not be enough: He will be cross._

_He’s blindfolded. That he doesn’t know where the next blow is coming from makes it worse even though he knows it’s supposed to make it better, more exciting. This time the next thing is a bite to his ear lobe. It hurts even among the other pain and even before James feels the trickle of the blood down his neck he knows that He has drawn blood. He can’t help but whimper while all the time his mantra continues, I must be good, I must be good..._

_It feels like it’s been hours even though James knows it can’t have been. His shoulders have long since subsided into a kind of burning numbness that feels better while feeling like every kind of wrong and James spares a moment to worry about nerve damage before he is assaulted by a new sensation. The sudden swift smack to his arse doesn’t hurt half so much as the pull as what he realises must be a ventilated paddle is jerked away just as quickly. The pain makes him jerk forward in such a way that his shoulders begin to hurt again. Enough is enough James thinks and croaks out the word that will make it all stop,_

_“Lewis,”_

_But it doesn’t stop; three quick strokes with the paddle follow, one after each time he says his safe word louder assuming that He hasn’t heard. He has heard,_

_“I told you it would be a shame if you made me cross,” He says._

 

When James was five minutes late Robbie began to worry even though he told himself it was stupid. The thing was that James was never late for anything, not ever. Still, Robbie thought, anyone can have a bad morning and it seemed like he had serious plans last night, he’s probably hung-over or tired enough to sleep through his alarm. However another half-hour came and went and still James did not arrive and Robbie began seriously to worry. At the three-quarter hour spot he rang James’ land line and when he got no answer (perhaps he slept over with someone) he rang his mobile and got no answer from either. An hour in, Innocent passing by their office poked her head round the door to say good morning,

“No Hathaway this morning?” she asked.

“He’s just nipped out, ma’am,” Robbie replied,

“You sure about that, Lewis?” Her expression told him that she didn’t believe him but before he could blather on unconvincingly she continued to speak, “Remember what I said to you, I want whatever is bothering the boy sorted out, soon as,” she paused, looking directly at him, “this might be your opportunity.”

Well that couldn’t be more direct, Robbie thought as he stood up and put on his jacket, I’ll just go and check up on him, most likely he’s just running late, but I’ll feel better if I know.

 

James’ car was parked up outside his house and Robbie parked next to it, running his hand over the bonnet as he went past and finding it stone cold and knowing that the car at least hadn’t moved in the last few hours. The milk was still on the doorstep and The Guardian was still sticking out of the letter box on his front door, so most likely he’d come home at not too ridiculous an hour, certainly not an all-nighter, by the look of things. Robbie knocked politely, not wanting to make more of a fuss than he was already making and certainly not wanting to attract the attention of the neighbours. But the polite knock did nothing and instead he went for the ‘policeman’s knock’, the one that every copper learns in his first couple of weeks on the job. Still nothing. Well, I’ve got a key he thought, and fished in his pocket for it, his heart rate increasing as he ran the possibilities through his mind.

He opened the door and cautiously pushed it open,

“Hathaway? Are you there?” There was no answer and with a sinking feeling Robbie pushed the door further open and took a couple of steps into the short lobby that led from the door. Looking at the lobby all his work-instincts came into play, helpfully pushing some of the personal panic down. There were what was usually referred to as ‘signs of a disturbance’. The small table on which the phone stood had been shoved out of place and the phone book had been knocked off, fallen with its pages in a tangle that Robbie knew James would not have been able to tolerate if he’d been able to do anything about it. Advancing further, Robbie could see other things had been disturbed and there were the marks of dark coloured shoe soles having been dragged along the laminate flooring. Robbie swallowed, try as he might he couldn’t come up with a good explanation for it all, he couldn’t even come up with a not bloody awful explanation. 

The door into the living room had frosted glass panels and through them Robbie could make out that the furniture was more or less where it should be, but none of the lights were on and the heating was certainly off. After a moment’s consideration Robbie called James’ name again, low, not sure whether he thought that there was someone else in the house, after all it would seem there had to be someone who had been dragged and someone who had been doing the dragging but he could detect neither verbal response nor movement anywhere in the house in response to his voice. He tried again, louder,

“James? Hathaway! Are you here?”

Still nothing. He walked to the glass panelled door, pushed it open and saw James sprawled on the sofa. Robbie took a deep breath. For a moment, a moment that took several centuries to pass, Robbie failed to detect any signs of breathing in the form lying like he’d fallen from a great height on to the sofa and then he heard a groan rather than seeing a movement and as if his muscles had been released from some sort of stasis he practically launched himself into the room to land on his protesting knees next to James as he lay on the sofa.

“James,” he called, reaching a hand to check the lads pulse at the carotid. The pulse was steady, a bit slow, but one of the many chaotic parts of Robbie’s thought processes supplied the fact that the lad still kept up his rowing and that probably meant he was fit enough to have a naturally low heartbeat. “James!” he tried again, more loudly this time his hand going to his pocket to find his mobile phone, the lad needed an ambulance, what the hell had happened to him, he was bruised, one eye was swollen shut and judging by the stains on his t-shirt he had also been cut. And yet, Robbie thought briefly, he’s been brought back here, not left wherever it was he had the fight, what the hell’s going on here? He tried one last time to rouse James, even more loudly and was rewarded with a flicker of eyelids. The feeling of relief made him feel simultaneously hot and cold. “Just hang on, James,” he said quickly, “I’m just calling an ambulance, soon have you right.”

“No,” James croaked, “no ambulance, please!” The words came out emphatically despite the damage that had been done to the lad and Robbie let the phone drop from his ear,

“Don’t talk wet, lad, you need someone to look at you, you look like you went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. We’ve got to get you looked at,”

“No, please, don’t, please, sir.” James attempted to sit up but it was clear that his arms were not up to the task of supporting him for some reason and he slumped back down still pleading with Robbie not to call anyone, before trying again just as unsuccessfully. Robbie didn’t like the way that even this effort had left the boy breathless and sweating,

“It’s OK, calm down, I won’t call anyone if you don’t want me to, settle down, let me help you up, you’ll do better sat up with bruising like that, here,” he held a hand out to James, “grab a hold and we’ll see what the damage is.” Robbie felt like he should be crossing his fingers because if it was as bad as it looked he was going to call an ambulance whether or not James wanted it, but at least for the time being he wanted to check up on the lad without any arguments.

Between the two of them they got James sat up and Robbie had a clearer view of his sergeant’s injuries. Some of them he could identify, fist marks and similar, some were caused by some sort of straight edged implement, long linear bruises on James’ forearms, some were utterly incomprehensible to Robbie the weird almost textured bruising that he could see disappearing under the sleeves of James’ t-shirt. He knew that James could tell that he was taking in the state of him and the younger man almost cringed away from him when Robbie opened his mouth to speak. Robbie had been going to ask him what the hell had happened but at that reaction he stopped himself and instead restricted himself to basic medical/first aid questions,

“Look at me, James,” he said waiting until James looked him straight in the eye (or straight in one eye, he was still struggling to open the other eye) so that he could check his pupils before continuing, “Do you feel dizzy?”

James shook his head, and Robbie continued, “Do you feel particularly thirsty?” again James shook his head, “Do you think anything’s broken?” he asked finally, and James managed to speak in response,

“No, I don’t think so, just bruises, I think.”

His voice came out creaky making Robbie distrust the answer about feeling thirsty. “I think I ought to call an ambulance, really James, I’ve no way of knowing how much damage’s been done to you.”

James tried to clear his throat and ended up coughing and from the way he was holding himself the coughing hurt him more than a little.

“Is it your ribs?” Robbie asked, alert to the danger of punctured lungs and beginning to reach for his phone again. James reached out a restraining hand while he got his breath and answered,

“Not my ribs, my shoulders are sore, ribs are fine, I’m fine, really sir, leave it be.” A thought seemed to occur to him, “What time is it? Christ, you’re here because I’m late for work, give me a few minutes and I’ll be with you.”

“Don’t be so bloody daft!” Robbie snapped, “it’ll be days before you’re in a fit state to go to work,” he paused, but in the end the question had to be asked, “what on earth happened to you?”

Even in the dim light from the window Robbie could make out that James was blushing,

“Nothing sir,” James took in the expression on his boss’ face and looked away, “nothing that matters, I’ll be OK in a few minutes, honestly.”

Robbie could tell that the lad was working himself up into a state and that couldn’t possibly help whatever had happened,

“Calm down, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you do have to get checked over, that’s definite, I can’t see you like this and then just hope that everything’s going to be OK, a pretty poor friend I’d be if I did that let alone what sort of boss that would make me. I’m going to make a brew and then we’re going to talk, got it?”

James nodded his acquiescence and Robbie got up, knees protesting and went into the little kitchen that opened off the living room. He put the kettle on and fished two mugs out of the cupboard. He went to the fridge, and didn’t find any milk but he remembered the milk at the doorstep and went back into the living room to go and get it. 

James was still sat up but Robbie could see straight away that tears were running down his face. From this angle he could also see what looked like a bite and dried blood down the side of James’ neck and suddenly he put this together with the strange mark on James’ neck the other day and he knew that whatever else James hadn’t been in a straightforward fight, there was something else going on here, something more worrying.

 

Robbie decided that it would be better to pretend he hadn’t seen James crying and he ducked back into the kitchen making more noise so that James would know he was coming with brews in hand. As a result he found James trying to hurriedly pull himself together when he walked back into the living room and it seemed so wrong that it was all he could do not to say something to the lad, to tell him not to waste his time pretending, but he stopped himself, after all the man needed some dignity left to him, didn’t he? He plonked the coffee down on the small table and turned away, going to the door to pick up the milk and by the time he returned, James was sat hunched forward in a way that still made Robbie wonder about cracked ribs, trying to look alert and with it,

“Sorry, sir, I really will be OK in a few minutes,” James tried a smile but it was clear that it hurt him and Robbie found himself wondering if he also had a couple of loose teeth to contend with as well,

“No, you won’t. Don’t be daft, James you can’t go into work in this state, the place is full of nosey, suspicious bastards who’ll want to know what’s happened,” he smiled to show that he was at least to a certain extent joking but James seemed disinclined to acknowledge the fact and he continued, “you need to take a day or two to heal before you go near the station.”

James sat more upright as Robbie spoke and he could see James pulling together his work persona, closing down on the emotion that he had been showing and he strongly wanted to let him, to join with James in pretending nothing had happened but he’d been a policeman for better than thirty years and he knew with a sick certainty that things like this did not get better, ninety-nine times out of a hundred they got worse, much worse. After a moment’s hesitation he decided that direct was the only approach he could take to this situation. He put out a restraining hand and grasped James’ forearm,

“No, James, I’m sorry but I can’t just let this go, we both know that.”

James stiffened up even more and pulled his arm away, leaving Robbie leaning forward awkwardly feeling momentarily stupid,

“You’ll have to,” James replied, “I’m not going to talk about this, so you can forget about any ‘investigation’ you might want to launch. I’ve told you it won’t happen again and it won’t.”

“When you were in uniform, how many times did some battered woman tell you the same thing only for you to be round the next Friday night and the one after that and so on. I reckon you’d be lucky not to have had at least one of those cases end up in a PM, I know I had one.” 

James stood up so fast that Robbie was surprised, and even more so when James spat out his next words at volume,

“I’m not that fucking stupid! Bloody fucking hell, is there no chance you could for just five minutes see me as a functioning, adult male? Just piss off will you?”

Shock, anger and concern made Robbie stand almost as fast as James had before he replied,

“No, I bloody-well won’t, leave ye’! In this state? Not bloody likely!”

James’ next words were spoken as best as he could from behind gritted teeth,

“I want you out of my house, right the fuck now. I’ll call the station and tell them I have food-poisoning and when I’m back I’ll ask for a transfer. My life and my stupidity will no longer be any problem of yours. Now get out, do you hear me.”

Robbie did not have to feign anger when he replied,

“You reckon you can make me, in the state you’re in? Don’t be so bloody stupid, man, whatever makes you think I’m not treating you like an adult? What you think violence only happens to girls, do ye’. It can and it does happen to anyone, you should know that as well as I do.” If Robbie had been hoping for a more positive response from James he was disappointed,

“I want you out of my house.”

Robbie took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, finishing up looking at James with an air of incredulity,

“Who the hell is it you’re protecting? Who the hell is it that gets to treat you like this,” he waved a hand vaguely in James’ direction encompassing the clearly battered state of him, “and gets protected? If I was the one in the state you’re in what would you do?”

James didn’t reply straight away, he looked away and Robbie saw him swallow a couple of times before he replied in a very quiet voice,

“I’d kill them. Please, sir, please just go, I can’t,” he paused and again Robbie saw him swallow, “I can’t talk about this now, please let me be.”

Robbie opened his mouth to argue and then took in the exhaustion in every muscle and realised that only iron determination (or was it stubbornness) were holding the lad up. He put up his hands in a placating gesture,

“All right, all right, no more questions, so long as you get yourself to bed and accept the fact that I’ll be round after work.”

James didn’t look spectacularly happy about this but Robbie spoke again before he had chance to argue,

“I have a ‘duty of care’, sergeant, Innocent’d have me guts if I let anything happen to you. I’ll bring food, OK?”

“OK,” James managed as he turned away, moving slowly and in obvious pain towards the stairs, to go to his room. Robbie couldn’t help himself,

“Can you manage the stairs?” He could have kicked himself and he was ready to be sworn at again, but instead after a moment’s pause, James merely continued gingerly onwards without a word. Robbie knew that James would not take it well if he watched him struggle with the stairs, if he didn’t trust him to be OK, so as James hauled himself up the staircase, Robbie let himself out of the house and walked slowly back to his car.

 

When Robbie got back to the station he was hoping desperately that he could manage to avoid Innocent but sod’s law was in full operation and she was standing in reception like she was looking out for him,

“Inspector Lewis,”

“Ma’am?”

“I could do with a word with you about the Semple case,”

“Right-o, ma’am,” Robbie replied trying to look like he had a clue what the Semple case was. He followed her, neither of them speaking until they got back to her office, where she rounded on him,

“Well?”

“Well? He’s at home, his home, but he’s not fit to be in work. I’ll see that he turns in a sick note,”

Innocent interrupted,

“What’s the matter with him?”

Robbie paused,

“Will this be off the record?”

“You know I can’t do that,”

“Then he’s got an upset stomach,” Robbie replied blandly,

“And off the record?”

Robbie slumped into the chair in front of the desk,

“Off the record, he’s taken a proper beating.”

“Good God, who from?”

“That’s just it, ma’am, he won’t say, I reckon that if he hadn’t been such a mess he would have thrown me out when I pushed him for answers, as it was he swore at me and told me to get out.” Robbie took in the look on Innocent’s face and continued to speak, “Oh, I calmed him down but ... it wasn’t good.”

“Did you get the sense it was random? Was he mugged?” It was impossible not to hear the hope behind the question, the hope that this was almost an unfortunate accident. Robbie took a moment or two to think but no matter how he tried he couldn’t convince himself that James was just embarrassed by what had happened rather than protecting someone. He sighed,

“No I got the sense it was more ... personal than that. He didn’t want me poking my nose in but I don’t think it was because he was embarrassed about getting thumped.” There was a long pause before he continued to speak, “I think he’s protecting someone, and that makes me really nervous, if I’m honest.”

“You need to find out what’s going on, by the sound of things this can’t be allowed to continue.”

“Not sure how comfortable I am ‘investigating’ a colleague,”

“It’s for his own good,”

Robbie slumped forward and held his head in his hands for a moment before sitting back up,

“Aye, I know that, and I’ll do it ‘cause it wants doing, but I wish I could be sure that it wasn’t going to fetch up with me looking for a new bagman.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Where will you start?”

Robbie thought for a moment,

“CCTV, I reckon, see if I can track his movements last night,” he sighed again, “it’s difficult, last thing I want is to embarrass him any more by getting anyone else involved. By the way, what is the ‘Semple Case’.”

A smile briefly crossed Innocent’s face before she replied,

“This is strictly off the record, but back in the day, when we weren’t quite so hot on PACE and similar, when I first started in CID, my governor booked all his ... personal enquiries down to the Semple case, completely fictitious but very handy.”

Robbie smiled back, the expression feeling slightly strange,

“So, I think I’ll go and talk to Gurdip, get him to show me how to track through the cameras, and if he asks, I’ll just tell him it’s for the Semple case?”

“That’s how it works.”

 

]

It was fortunate that of all the officers that he might have had to involve Gurdip was the one he was most certain he could have trusted with the whole thing without having to worry about it becoming the subject of office gossip, it was fortunate because Gurdip most certainly wasn’t stupid. With this in mind Robbie decided that the best thing would be to offer no explanation of what he was doing,

“Do you reckon you could show me how to pull some CCTV footage?”

“Whatever it is you want, I can get it for you,” the DC answered,

“That’s not the point,” Robbie replied, “point is, I ought to be able to do this sort of thing m’sell, even you have leave every now and then.” The smile that accompanied this seemed to be enough as Gurdip smiled back,

“OK, sir, walk this way,”

“Couldn’t if I tried,” Robbie replied, muttering, “the old ones are the best,” as he followed Gurdip down the corridor.

 

It turned out it wasn’t that hard, not when he was properly motivated and half an hour later he was reviewing footage from the nearest cameras to James’ house, it took a little while but eventually he found what he was looking for James, clearly already knocked about, in the passenger seat of a Jag. It was harder work to track the car back, further but he got there in the end, until he found footage of James half walking, half being dragged to the car from an address on Brownset Road, not that he could accurately identify the exact house, which was probably as well.

Leaning across to the other computer in the room, Robbie did a PNC check on anything known about addresses on Brownset Road, it seemed unlikely that this was a one off; perhaps the same person had previously had a go at someone else. There was an advisory on one of the addresses that linked him back to the Vice Squad. Fuck, Robbie thought, what the hell had the lad got himself into? The possibilities were endless, gambling and prostitution were just the start. Robbie would have sworn that James was not the sort to have a gambling habit, but then addicts were always very good at hiding things. As to the prostitution angle, when Robbie remembered James bowing to that girl in the botanical gardens, he couldn’t imagine the lad using a house of ill-repute.

Preoccupied, Robbie walked back to his office, trying to decide on what the best course of action was now. He could go back to James’, confront the lad with what he’d found out, see if that would be enough to get James to tell him what had been going on, but judging by how he’d been that morning it didn’t seem likely that it would work. He could go and talk to someone in vice and get more information on why the Brownset Road place was a known address but he would risk making them curious and linking this all back to James. But, he realised the more information he had the more likely it was that he’d be able to get James to speak to him later so he took a deep breath and went to talk to one of the DI’s in vice.

 

“Well, hello stranger!” Pete grinned up at him as he walked into the open plan office that was shared by the vice team, “What brings you to our humble section of the knick?”

Robbie smiled back. He’d first worked with Pete when they were both new DCs, long before Morse, but their careers had diverged when Robbie had been pulled into Serious Cases and eventually Morse’s orbit and diverged further when Pete had stepped into a gap in Vice when the head of the section had turned out to be receiving a hefty cut of half of the profits of prostitution in Oxford – not one of Thames Valley’s finest moments – but Pete was as straight as an arrow and still managed somehow to leave the job at work and keep his perspective. They chatted for a few minutes; Robbie hadn’t really spoken to Pete since he got back from Tortola, and it took them a while to get caught up. 

“So,” Pete concluded, “what can I do for you?”

Robbie steeled himself to appear unconcerned as he asked the question,

“I came across an address in Brownset Road and it was flagged by Vice, I was wondering if you could give me a heads up as to why.”

Pete grinned,

“Number 17?” he asked,

“Yeah,” Robbie replied with a sinking feeling, “what can you tell me?”

“Well, if your suspect frequents number seventeen he’s got himself some interesting tastes, they cater for a very specific clientele.” Pete was still grinning and Robbie felt himself becoming angry although he tried to hide it,

“Come on, Pete, spit it out,” he asked,

“It’s a gay S&M club,” Pete replied, “so, is your suspect into giving or receiving do you think?”

 

It took Robbie a little while to extract himself from Pete’s office, made longer by the fact that he was trying to cover for the fact that he really didn’t want to talk about the ‘case’ or the ‘suspect’. When he finally got back to their office he slumped at his desk, trying to order his thoughts which were going every which way but kept coming back to the fact that the damage that had been done to James was way beyond anything that looked ‘recreational’ to him. _But then_ , he mused, _what the fuck do I know about it?_ Was it possible that the reason that James didn’t want him involved was because this was something he’d actually asked for? It seemed completely unbelievable to Robbie, the lad was hurting, he’d been bitten hard enough to draw blood, the damage that Robbie had been able to see amounted to GBH, definitely ABH and yet James was shielding the person who had done this to him. It was a mystery, especially when he remembered James’ reaction to the question of what he would do were their roles reversed.

 

Robbie was no closer to a meaningful answer by the time it got to knocking off time. Some aspects were clearer, of course. Pete’s question had had an answer straight away but Robbie couldn’t for the life in him see how James had been getting anything out of the deal. The lad was in genuine pain, the injuries he had sustained should have had him at the hospital, the bite alone needed some serious looking at; human bites had a habit of getting infected. 

The other problem was that the law had a bad history with this type of situation. Robbie hadn’t needed to remind himself about ‘Operation Spanner’ , he’d been Morse’s bagman by the time that case had hit. He could still remember some of the jokes; they didn’t seem even remotely funny anymore. The top and sides of it was that the police could still prosecute even if James said it was consensual, just like they could prosecute without a complaint if any case was serious enough. Not that it would come to that. With Innocent’s connivance James would have a stomach upset or similar, he would heal and he would come back and Robbie would do whatever he could to make sure that it never happened again, if James allowed him to. It was a god-awful mess and he still had to go back to James’ flat, still had to talk about it when James so clearly didn’t want to.

The drive to James’ flat seemed to be over in no time. As Robbie got out of the car he had his key in his hand, there was no point making the lad get up he reasoned, he was not likely to be less stiff and uncomfortable than he had been in the morning. Robbie called out as he opened the door,

“Hiya, James, it’s me,”

“Hiya,” to say the response was unenthusiastic would be an understatement, but Robbie squared his shoulders and walked in as normally as he could, cutting straight through to the kitchen, waving the carrier bag he was holding at James to indicate that he was going to put shopping away. From what he could see of the lad he didn’t look any worse physically, although some of the bruises were coming out, but he’d looked awfully nervous, doing that chewing at his thumbnail thing that he did when he was tense. As he began to put the food away, Robbie spoke, raising his voice slightly so that he was sure that James would hear him,

“I’ve got soup and rolls and some sort of trifle thing for afters, you looked earlier like you might have a loose tooth or two and that seemed like the best answer.” There was no reply and Robbie gritted his teeth and fished around for a tin-opener for the soup, “It’s hardly Cordon Bleu I’m afraid,” he said, “but it’ll keep body and soul together.” He was aware of movement from the living room and James walked in. He was moving cautiously but he was moving, “Glad to see you’re up and about,” he said, he knew his voice was falsely bright.

“You don’t need to do any of this, you know,” James said, his voice raspy,

“No,” Robbie agreed getting out a pan and tipping the tomato soup out of the tin, “No, I don’t suppose I do, but it is what friends do for each other.”

“Friends,” James murmured, looking down apparently at his bare toes as they peeked out from the cuffs of the tracky-bottoms he was wearing.

“Aye, friends.” Robbie confirmed, “Do you want a roll with this or I could do some toast if you’re up to it.”

James sighed, and Robbie couldn’t work out why, before he replied,

“Toast would be great, I’ll put the kettle on,” he paused, swallowed and continued, “you are staying for a while aren’t you?”

Robbie smiled,

“Of course I am, I’m not ‘cooking’ twice in the one evening!”

 

That exchange set the tone for the evening. After the soup and toast, Robbie insisted on cutting it into ‘soldiers’, James rolled his eyes but tucked in, Robbie found a film for them to watch and they sat mostly in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the bulk of the evening. When the film finished Robbie steeled himself to talk to James about it all, but as he turned to look at him, James looked so relaxed that he couldn’t bring himself to disturb that and instead he got up to go. James cleared his throat,

“Thank you. I don’t, haven’t said that enough over the years.”

“That sounds awfully retrospective, James,” Robbie tried for a convincing smile but knew that it wasn’t coming off,

“Yeah,” James agreed but before he could continue Robbie interrupted,

“Well it shouldn’t. Nothing’s changed, you’re still me’ sergeant, whatever this is, and there’s time enough to talk about it when you’re feeling better.” He paused for a moment and then spoke again, “we’ll sort it out, lad.”

The silence between them now was not at all comfortable and James stood up, his arms wrapped around himself,

“I don’t think you’re going to want to.”

Robbie waited wondering if James would continue but in the end he spoke instead,

“I’m not going to give up on you, lad, I never will.”

 

Robbie called in again, on his way to work the following morning, to find that James was up and about and looking more like himself.

“You look better,” he said, smiling, “how are you feeling?”

“Much better thanks, I was wondering about work,”

Robbie interrupted, 

“You’re covered at work, I’d give it another day if I were you, professional nosey bastards remember.”

James smiled briefly,

“What have you told Innocent?”

Robbie really didn’t know how to answer that question, the truth might make James worry, lying to him seemed wrong on some fundamental level.

“She knows you were thumped, she doesn’t know more than that,” he paused, “she specifically doesn’t want to know more than that if she can avoid it. As far as anyone else knows you’ve got food poisoning and you’re expected when we see you.”

“You know more though, don’t you?”

Robbie reached up and smoothed his hair down, a nervous tell that he should have trained himself out of years ago, before he spoke,

“I know where you were and I know what goes on there. More than that I don’t know. More than that I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“And if I choose not to?”

“Well then, I reckon I’ll bide myself in patience as long as it seems like you’ll be safe and unharmed. I don’t want to pry, but,” Robbie took a deep breath, “I won’t stand by and watch you get hurt again, not if I can help it.”

James opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again and his shoulders slumped. Robbie waited for a second or two but it was clear that James was not going to speak again,

“Like I said, don’t worry about it, lad, we’ll sort it out whatever ‘it’ is.”

 

Innocent was waiting for Robbie in his own office when he got to work, perched on the corner of James’ desk, never a good start to the day,

“Still no Hathaway?” she asked,

“Obviously not,” he replied not troubling to keep the irritation out of his voice. He took a deep breath before he continued, “Sorry, ma’am, no, not today, he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“And will everything be sorted out?”

“I hope so.”

 

Robbie put some serious thought into what they would eat that night, tramping the aisles of the little supermarket, aware of the fact that he probably looked like he was getting gaited up for a date. The moment that thought had formed he found himself blushing. He gave himself a mental shake. So what if the lad was gay, what possible business was it of his? It shouldn’t matter and it didn’t matter although now he came to think of it a few other things made more sense now, how awkward James always was around women for one. Not that he’d ever noticed James taking any notice of blokes either which just made the whole thing more peculiar. Anyway he thought, no use me guessing, not when we can just talk and then I’ll know.

James was up and about by the time Robbie got there, and very nervous if Robbie was any judge of the matter. Robbie wanted to make sure that James ate; the lad was always too thin for Robbie’s taste, so while he prepared the food he kept up a gentle flow of small talk about work and about Lynn and about anything else that popped into his head, anything to stop James getting stuck into the difficult conversation. A couple of times James tried to break in but Robbie would have none of it, steering the conversation back to meaningless nothings. James took the hint and after that he just settled for the something and nothing chat that Robbie was encouraging. Even that had petered out when they’d finished eating and by the time Robbie came back into the living room with coffee, there was a high degree of tension in the room.

Robbie put the coffee down,

“You’ll be OK for work tomorrow?” he asked,

“I reckon,” James replied head down, seemingly contemplating the knee of his jeans. Then he pulled in a long deep breath and continued, “but I still intend to turn in my papers.” At the end of the sentence James sat up straighter and looked Robbie squarely in the face. Robbie asked the question that was at the forefront of his mind,

“Why? What have I done?”

James looked confused for a second before he settled into an expression of irritation that strangely made Robbie feel much better,

“That’s not it, and you know it,” James replied, “I’m a liability, we both of us know this could come back and bite me, what if that happens during an important case? No it makes more sense for me to jack it in.”

“Why don’t you tell me exactly what ‘this’ is and then we,”

“There is no ‘we’, it’s my decision, OK?”

Robbie didn’t try and keep the hurt out of his expression,

“And you’d make a decision this big a decision without discussing it with your closest mate?”

James coloured,

“I’m pretty sure ... when you know ...”

Robbie took pity on him again, and interrupted,

“Why don’t you just tell me what was going on?”

James drew himself up from his habitual slouch and took a deep breath,

“I just wanted to feel normal.”

It took all Robbie had to keep his reaction halfway reasonable

“Normal?”

“Yeah, just listen will you, this is hard,”

It was Robbie’s turn to blush, he knew he should know better,

“Sorry, carry on.”

James took a deep breath and swallowed and Robbie braced himself for what was coming, but James seemed unable to pull the words together. Robbie waited; he didn’t want to make anything any worse for the lad. Eventually James began to speak.

“I’ve never felt ‘normal’. I know everyone thinks that they’re weird, abnormal, but I really am. I knew I was from an early age. I mean things were weird when I was growing up as you’ll have gathered, I’d love to claim that I didn’t notice anything about what was happening to Paul, but I knew something was up but I had no idea what and by that age I was trying to work out what the hell was wrong with me.” James stopped speaking and leaned forward to pick up his mug of coffee, when he leaned back again he seemed to be having trouble getting going again. Robbie tried desperately to think of what he could say to get him going again that wouldn’t sound like he was guessing or prompting. The comparison between this conversation and an interview kept presenting itself and was doing nothing to make Robbie feel any more comfortable. Just when he was about to blurt something out James continued,

“When I got to secondary school it all became that bit more obvious. It seemed like all anyone ever talked about was sex. I was at a boys’ school, Augustus had seen to it that I got a scholarship, and the sole topic of conversation was girls and if you didn’t join in you were gay and god, I’d have loved to be gay, I’d have loved to be feeling something.”

In the privacy of his own mind Robbie was surprised, if he’d expected anything it was that James was going to ‘come out’ to him but this was something else,

“So I learned to join in, thought that eventually something would just click and I’d get what it was all about. Perhaps as my mother said, I was just a late developer, perhaps I was just waiting for that certain someone,” a smile that was more like a grimace passed across his face, “like the girl in a forties musical.”

James pulled his legs up and turned slightly so that he was sat cross-legged in the corner of the sofa hunched over his cooling coffee. He looked all of about twelve Robbie thought. 

Robbie waited but James seemed disinclined to continue and the silence between them became tense while Robbie tried to decide whether he should say something even though James had asked him not to. Eventually James sighed,

“But I never did get it, not really, even though I tried.”

“Fiona?” Robbie asked unable to help himself,

“Yeah, like Fiona, it was wrong of me really, I knew that it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Like Zoe.”

Robbie had a million questions but he didn’t ask them he just waited until James began to speak again,

“You’re not the first person I’ve spoken to about this, but you’re the first person who hasn’t asked a million questions,” he smiled, and Robbie thought it was close to being a real smile, “so to answer the ones that most people want answering, there’s nothing medically wrong with me, I can become aroused, although I don’t like the feeling. It’s not response to some sort of abuse, although given what things were like at Crevecoeur I could see why people might think it was.”

Robbie smiled; those were some of his questions, but not the main one. James clearly saw that he was about to ask a question and interrupted him before he could begin,

“No, let me finish now I’ve finally started. I was brought up a devout Catholic as you know. Given my lack of interest in sex and that upbringing the priesthood was an obvious choice, a perfect fit I thought. Sex, well it was a subject we discussed with our confessors at the seminary.” He stopped and took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly at how cold it was, “They pushed and pushed about it, convinced that there must have been some sort of trauma or repression; I suppose they worried that it was going to come out and I would end up becoming an abuser.”

Robbie sat up straighter at that, feeling a surge of anger, but James continued before he could speak,

“It was a legitimate concern given what I was telling him, given some of the things that have come out these last few years. I already doubted my vocation, and he wanted to know how I would counsel couples when I had no idea how it was they were feeling. I tried to explain that I understood love, just not sex, but I couldn’t seem to make him see the distinction. You’d have thought that someone brought up on Greek and Latin would be able to see the difference between _éros, agápe_ and _philia_ .”

Robbie’s knowledge of ancient Greek was non-existent but he knew enough to know that there was a difference, that one was sexual love and the other two more spiritual and emotional. He didn’t interrupt James to ask for detail. James continued,

“But you know what he said preyed on my mind on and off even long after I’d left the seminary. When you think about the sheer number of words written about such things over the millennia, surely I must be missing out on something? Even Philip, god love him, had a better idea of what love meant than I did. After the thing at Crevecoeur, when I found out about Paul and about Briony, I really began to wonder, was I repressing something, did I just need something to get me ‘over the hump’? And then we had that case with the artist, you remember the photographs?”

“Aye, I remember,” Robbie replied, he’d been wondering about that case a lot these last few days,

“It set me wondering. Perhaps that was what I needed, to be put in a situation where I was at least pretending that I had no choice in the matter.”

“But you decided that you’d try that with another bloke?” Robbie couldn’t help but ask the question. James didn’t flinch from the question,

“Well that’s kind of the force thing, I suppose and one way or another the people I’ve been close to have always been men. The idea was that I would do ‘it’,” Robbie could hear the distaste in James voice and could see the flush of embarrassment cover his face, “because I would learn to follow his instructions, I suppose to see if I was a born ‘sub’ just waiting for the right ‘dom’ to come along. James’ flush deepened and Robbie thought that he would stop speaking but instead he sipped coffee that must have been stone cold, “Anyway it didn’t matter, because it didn’t work. I could, I did do what he wanted up until the last time but it left me cold, more than cold, with a feeling of ... revulsion, I suppose. It got pretty intense that last time, but you do have to understand that I went into it with my eyes open.”

Robbie felt there were so many things wrong with that statement he wouldn’t have known where to begin even if he’d felt he could trust his voice. One thing he was certain of was that even if James had gone into the thing with his ‘eyes open’, even if he’d asked the bloke to do what he did, it had been excessive, real damage had been done and that shouldn’t be the case.

“So, all in all, I’m just a weirdo and knowing what you know, even guessing what you must have guessed, it’s going to change how you see me, it’s going to make working together impossible in the long run. I’ve never worked with anyone who ... anyone like you,” James paused, sniffed and wiped at his eyes and then clearly tried for a smile, “I’m not going to find someone who would put up with me like you’ve done, so I’m going to turn in my papers.”

Robbie didn’t speak for a long time. He was aware that what he said next could make so much difference to James and to be honest so much difference to himself. He felt almost paralysed by trying to find the exact right words and twice he was on the point of starting to speak, but each sentence sounded like it was judgemental. Anything he said might be the wrong thing and he knew it but in the end he trusted to his instincts and to the fact that everything he knew of James said that the lad would hear him out,

“I’m not sure how this alters anything. I mean really, I’d assumed that you weren’t hiding a secret life as a swinger, you’re not involved with anyone, neither am I, what’s changed, really?”

Robbie could tell straightaway that that wasn’t what James had been expecting, and he pushed forward making use of the element of surprise, “If you’re worried about the bloke involved then I reckon I can put the frighteners on him and be sure that this won’t come back and haunt you.” He steeled himself slightly before he asked the next question, “Does he know you’re job?”

James stammered as he answered,

“No ... no, I don’t see how he could, I was at least that careful.” He stopped speaking, looking squarely at Robbie, “You must know this isn’t going to work, surely?”

“I can’t see why it will be a problem, other than making sure that the bastard who hurt you doesn’t do it again.”

James tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite come off as he replied,

“Well, he certainly won’t hurt me again. That’s it, I’m giving up. It’s just the way I’m made and I have to accept that.”

There was a long silence, not fraught this time or at least it didn’t feel fraught to Robbie as he weighed up ideas about what to do. He realised he needed more information,

“Did you have a safe word?” he mused, looking up when he got no reply and catching the tail-end of an expression on James’ face that was somewhere between amusement, embarrassment and hope,

“Yes, I did.” There was a long pause before James continued, “he didn’t take a lot of notice, at least not that last time.”

“So not completely consensual then, was it?” Robbie asked and then seeing the look of fear cross James’ face he continued, “Don’t worry I’m not thinking that this will be taken care of legally, there are other ways.”

“I wouldn’t want him hurt,” James blurted out, “he really only did what I asked him to, honestly.”

“Well that’s not true but I know what you mean. No, I’ve a mate in the vice squad, we’ll just have a quiet word, I think.” He took another look at James’ face, “don’t worry, we won’t ask any questions and we certainly won’t give away any information, but making it so that he has to find somewhere else to ‘play’ is non-negotiable.”

James looked down in embarrassment,

“I suppose that’s fair. I coped, I guess, with your help, the next bloke may not be as lucky.” James’ expression became more miserable again, “This isn’t going to work, it’s bound to come out and then Innocent will have to hear and it’ll be all round the station before we know it, you must see that I have to go.”

“As to Innocent, she’ll accept what I tell her. She doesn’t want to know, especially given that it’s you, especially if it can all be dealt with quietly. If I tell her tomorrow that it’s all sorted then she’ll ask no further questions.”

“But she’ll be watching me.”

“Aye, she might at that, but she knows as well as I do that most people have something in their past that they aren’t that proud of. Yours might be a little more ‘current’ than most people’s but we all have them, and no, before you ask I won’t tell you mine! With how she’s responded to this I reckon she has things of her own that she wouldn’t want to come out.” He smiled at James as he said this last and was answered with a faint smile but more importantly a slight relaxation of the tension in James that only pointed out how tense he’d been,

“So, what do I do?” James asked and Robbie took the question at face value,

“You come into work tomorrow and we carry on regardless. Do you want to know when we go and speak to him? I assume he’s a regular at that ‘club’, what’s he called?”

“We didn’t precisely exchange full names and histories,” James said in a small voice before looking directly at Robbie, “He went by ‘Andrew’ at the club, the barman definitely knew him. It’s wonderful really I’ve managed to combine being a virgin and being a right tart at one and the same time, that’s almost Zen, that is.”

“Stop knocking yourself, lad, you faced up to something about yourself, possibly not in the best way you could have but in the best way you could in the circumstances.” Robbie took a deep breath, “It’s not that unusual you know, there’s lots of folk out there who just aren’t interested, it was just a damn sight easier to hide when people didn’t fall in and out of bed with each other at the drop of a hat.”

James stood up, rubbing his eyes,

“Just give me a minute,” he muttered and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. Robbie allowed himself a sigh when James was out of hearing, stretched and rocked his head from side to side, trying to relieve some of the muscle tension he’d built up over the last couple of hours. Robbie wasn’t kidding himself, he knew that James would not be a copper who retired as a Chief Superintendent when he got to sixty, but he was selfish enough to want James to carry on while he did, and he seemed to have managed that much, and who knew?

James came back into the room and Robbie was struck by how knackered the lad looked,

“You look done in, I should go and you should turn it. I’m expecting you at work bang on time in the morning.”

James smiled, a genuine if exhausted smile,

“Yes, sir!”

Robbie decided to push his luck one more step, and he held his arms wide, beckoning James,

“You look like you could use a hug,”

James readily went to him and Robbie held him for a long while before a minute shift of muscle made James pull back slightly and stand up straight,

“I needed that, thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”


End file.
